Chapter Fifteen
Back at the sanctuary, the sunset lowered over the pasture, painting the world a warm shade of red-orange. With Maggie close behind me, I unlatched the gate from its hinge.
“And these,” I whispered, “are the hellblazers.” She followed me into the enclosure.
After our day in the town, Laken needed to meet with someone about a job, so the evening roundup fell to me.
And what better time for a guided sanctuary tour?
We were on our last stop; Maggie closed the door behind us.
“These guys are sensitive, and you have to watch out for them because—”
A slow, eerie bock sounded from the coop, and I froze. It always started with one. One lone chicken saying, “Why don’t we roast this bitch?” As expected, others followed, saying, “Yeah, that does sound like a good idea.” That’s how they sounded in my head, at least.
I’d lost my mind.
But not my reflexes. As Laken had instructed the other day when teaching, I grabbed Maggie’s arm and hid her behind a pillar.
Meanwhile, diving left with haste, my fingers wrapped tight around the lip of the tin lid to their bucket and threw up a shield.
Blocking us both from the flames, I recovered my place in our conversation.
“You have to watch out for them because they’re assholes. And they still prefer Laken to me.”
Quickly dumping their food out and slithering through the door, I slid my shoes off and plopped myself on the grass.
As night approached, the ground chilled and cooled my skin.
Leaning back on my hands and watching the sky shift colors, I awaited my company to join me in what they refer to as “earthing”—and I’d definitely recommend it.
My heart found its normal rate, my panting came to a stop, and my revenge chicken ideas even faded from my mind.
With perfect timing, Maggie plopped.
“Well, that’s it. The entire tour from Blaze to hellblazers.” Minus Indo, unfortunately.
“It sure is… something.” She too looked over the pasture. “And this is you… after lessons on how to take care of the animals?”
My head whipped; my brows scrunched. “Yes, and I have it all under control…” A long silence drifted; she knew that wasn’t true. I knew it wasn’t true. Hell, the creatures knew. “When Laken’s here,” I added. “I have a lot to learn, okay?”
Pulling my glare and attention off my friend so I couldn’t see her reaction, my shoulders sagged.
This was me trying, and surprisingly, tonight’s roundup went better than usual.
There shouldn’t have been a gaping hole in my chest, yet one formed anyway.
It wasn’t a need to impress Maggie, but more of a need to know I could do this. I wanted her to see that, too.
“You do seem to enjoy it, though.” Maggie’s voice was gentle and cautious.
“It might be hard now, but if I recall, you’d already given up making bouquets thrice over in the same amount of time you’ve been here.
” The slightest hint of a chuckle lightened what she was really saying.
That she saw it, too. That I had something here that I didn’t at Dirty Hoes.
Hanging my head down inches above the grass, I sighed—or maybe screamed a little—and decided, “I need a drink.”
The ruckus of screaming coming from the tavern felt louder than usual, as it tended to be this late in the evening.
The light from the windows appeared dimmer, meaning a packed crowd.
I pulled the door handle, and everything erupted into the streets of Honey Brooke.
The welcoming scent of ale and smoke piled out as if smothered inside, nearly knocking me back a step—and just in time.
Two large men came barreling out, fighting and yelling. I held an arm out to keep Maggie back, letting their bodies collapse into the dirt, and walked inside.
“What did you say the name of this place was?” Maggie slipped in behind me, but when I expected to find her repulsed, I turned out to be the confused one. Her eyes grew bright with a magic more beautiful than either of ours. The magic of discovery, I supposed.
“Rabbit’s Foot.” I raised my voice in order for her to hear me over the crowd.
“Lovely!” Her nose scrunched, and I wondered if Maggie really loved the world so much, or if she’d been locked inside a tower her whole life.
To our luck, as we made our way through the drunk belly of the beast, two women got up from the bar and left two open seats. Swiftly, we snagged the chairs before anyone even noticed they were open.
“Reece,” my favorite person beckoned. A red bandanna with gray hairs peeking out made its way to us. Goldie’s ember eyes studied my friend and then she snapped her fingers. “This must be Maggie! Dirty Hoes Flower Co. owner and best friend to Reece here!”
Mags lit up. “The bartender knows my name!” She faced me, slapping her hands down on the counter. “Does this make me small-town famous?”
Goldie entertained Maggie’s fascination for a moment before taking orders, bringing me my usual.
I liked going places where I had a usual; it made me feel seen, unlike in Old Ashton.
I pointed around to where the dartboard hung, showed her where the bathrooms were, the dancing spot on the floor, and—my personal favorite to watch—the drunk singing table.
“So,” Maggie yelled louder than she needed to, but I didn’t tell her. “What are you going to do about Laken?” I should’ve told her. Oh, no, she wasn’t going there. “What exactly is going on between you two?”
She went there.
I could’ve lied. I should’ve. However, what I saw staring back at me was a friend who deserved honesty—no matter how bad I didn’t want to give it.
Her soft, big brown eyes. Her little ringlets flowing about with shattered rays of light bursting through.
Damn Maggie, epitome of sunshine. “I don’t know,” I surrendered.
“What do you mean?”
I wanted to wither away. “Nothing? Everything?” I regretted speaking. “There’s really nothing more to it.”
She breathed out a sorry laugh. “Oh, there is definitely more to it.”
I scowled.
“Do you… like him? Would you ever—”
“No, Maggie! Gods, you know I wouldn’t. You know…”
My words stopped coming out because I didn’t even know what I was trying to say.
She knew what, exactly? How I felt afraid to let Laken back into my life?
She knew I’d locked my heart into a cage for the last three years, bearing its beating and plea for escape?
She knew I’d never let myself love again?
That I was having to show myself against him as the owner of the sanctuary because the town adored him all the while he’d become an assassin?
“Laken? What about you and Laken?” Goldie popped up from under the bar.
I parted my mouth to speak but got interrupted.
“Oh, I bet you know everything. Tell us every detail you’ve heard lately about or even from Laken.
Who is he hanging around? Who does he talk about?
Does he drink often? What kind of a drunk is he?
” It became too obvious Maggie remained a lightweight drinker.
It wasn’t her fault; she’d always been one.
Goldie smirked. “You’re my type of girl, talking my language now.
” She carefully glanced around to check who sat in hearing distance.
“Laken’s been back for a few months now, but I’ve yet to hear him talk about anyone, much less see him with another partner.
I think most of the time he comes in here, he’s moping about—” She cocked her head twice at me. “If you ask me, he’s hung up on—”
“I don’t care what Laken is hung up on. Or what he does. Or who he is with!” My voice rose the more I lied. But I didn’t need Goldie telling the entire town I came to her tavern asking about Laken and his hobbies. A part of me did want to know, but a bigger part panicked—obviously.
Goldie sealed her lips and stopped cleaning the glass she held. She hummed. “Yeah. Sure. I get defensive when I don’t care, too.”
I felt my friend’s attention burning my skin, and despite all the noise around us, it felt quiet.
“Hear me out,” Maggie started, and I knew we were in for it.
“Sleep with him to get it out of your system.” This was worse than I’d expected.
“Try it out! Love it. Hate it. Never think about it again. There’s no way it could go wrong.
” There were so many ways it could go wrong.
“And if it turns out you do feel something for that cute little pining farmer, you know what they say, second time’s a charm. ” She raised her glass.
I gawked at her. It really seemed like a terrible idea, but… what if it made sense? What if it worked? I mean, no logic was the best logic. Wasn’t that how it went?
Get with Laken. Get with Laken? The thought of it opened closed—not healed—wounds, bringing flashes of memories to my mind. His skin on mine, his lips trailing over my body, discovering its curves and edges. I wished those memories would’ve burned with the town center.
“I’m with her.” Goldie tilted her head toward Maggie. “Ain’t no man worth the trouble. Besides”—she scanned the tavern from one wall to another—“not many to choose from here.”
Maggie and I joined her, observing the other single men of Honey Brooke. Half of them were twice my age and the other half I wouldn’t want to be within a mile of.
The three of us locked eyes in conclusion and surrendered to our laughter. It was a nice moment of peace while it lasted.
Maggie set her cup down hard and grabbed my arm, squeezing it for dear life. “I know you said you didn’t care about Laken, but would you if he walked in with another brunette?”